


Katsuki Yuuri, Super Spy!

by ChaiFighter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Seduction Missions, celestino is a Meddler, many consecutive meet cutes, otabek the kazakhstani not-actually-boyfriend from interpol, tfw you're trying to get in a guy's pants and accidentally join his bowling league instead, the adventures of super spy katsuki yuuri, they bicker like siblings, victor is a Total Fucking Gentleman(TM), yuuri is yurio's spy mentor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaiFighter/pseuds/ChaiFighter
Summary: Yuuri’s job is to seduce Victor to get into his house and find any contact information for Yakov that might be there. Which, okay, that makes sense. But it still leaves a pretty big question.“Why do I need to s-sleep with him? I-I mean, I could just sneak into his house.”Celestino sighs. “Because you still stutter on the phrase ‘sleep with him.'"---or: Yuuri tries repeatedly to seduce a guy but ends up having a ton of awkward meet-cutes with him instead.





	Katsuki Yuuri, Super Spy!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for literally like a year, and today I finally decided fuck it, let's just get it over with. So here y'all go. There are probably errors and hella awkward moments, but you know what? I've re-read and edited too many times to care anymore.
> 
> I wrote a fic centered around sex and never actually wrote the sex. You've been spared my terrible virgin porn; you're welcome.

It’s a honeypot mission.

Yuuri stares at the nondescript manila folder and contemplates changing career paths.

“...be relatively safe,” Celestino is explaining. “We wanted to give you something low-risk, just to get you going again on this type of thing, seeing as you haven’t had one since you were nineteen.”

“Honeypot,” says Yuuri. He is still staring at the folder.

“Well, yes.” Celestino leans forward across his desk and offers Yuuri a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine. The worst you can do is make a bad pass, and then you go home and it’s no different than if you had a normal night out. The data he has is nothing critical, just a few details it’d be nice to have, so it won’t hurt us if you don’t manage.”

“Okay,” says Yuuri. “B-But--”

“Great,” says Celestino firmly. He flips open the folder and fans the contents across the desk. 

The target is Victor Nikiforov, a twenty seven year old man, native to Russia but immigrated when he was fifteen. He apparently has very distant ties to a man named Yakov, who in turn has ties to a woman named Lilia, who the government is trying to hunt down for information she may or may not have on a smuggling ring.

“Dance shoes?” Yuuri asks incredulously. “All this over smuggling dance shoes?”

Celestino shrugs. “If it’s true, it’s an operation worth millions of dollars. Not everything is as exciting as James Bond movies, Katsuki.”

Yuuri’s job is to seduce Victor to get into his house and find any contact information for Yakov that might be there. That involves address books, phone contacts, fridge sticky notes, etc. Which, okay, that makes sense. But it still leaves a pretty big question.

“Why do I need to s-sleep with him? I-I mean, I could just sneak into his house.”

Celestino sighs. “Because you still stutter on the phrase ‘sleep with him.’ Yuuri, you need this practice. You’ve been at this over a decade, and I know you’re one of our better agents, but someday you will need this skill set. And so far, nothing has proved so damaging to your missions as flirting.”

“Th-That’s…” 

It’s true, all of it. Yuuri is indeed one of their better agents. He prides himself in his ability to slip into places undetected, and he’s excellent at finding the information he needs quickly. But all it takes is an attractive stranger giving him looks and a mission can go out the window. He gets so caught up in frantically searching for a response that he forgets what he actually came for.

Seeing that his point has been made, Celestino shuffles the papers back into the folder and hands it across the desk. “So you’re on board?”

Yuuri stares at the folder and forces down the urge to run. “Yes,” he says, taking the folder. “I’m in.”

\---

Yurio, of course, finds it hilarious.

“Remedial lessons,” he cackles. “They’re basically sending you on a training trip!”

“I know,” Yuuri says miserably. He flicks on the kitchen light and pulls a kettle out from under the counter. If anything can make this day a little less bad, it would be tea. “Be glad you’re still tiny and don’t have to deal with honeypots.”  Yurio is sixteen, so he still has two years before they can start sending him on seduction missions. 

Yurio scoffs. “Like they’ll be a problem. I’m a perfect ten, I’ll be fine.” He makes grabby hands at the folder. “Lemme see, lemme see. Is he hot? I bet Beka’s hotter.”

Yurio thinks Otabek Altin, his Kazakhstani not-actually-boyfriend from Interpol, is the most attractive human being on the face of the earth. Yuuri doesn’t really get it. Otabek is handsome, but not world-endingly so. Still, Yurio refuses to be swayed.

“This one might upset Otabek’s record,” he says. He means it, for all he knows his junior won’t agree. Victor Nikiforov is incredibly easy on the eyes. He slides the folder across the counter so that Yurio can reach it from his seat at the table. 

Yurio takes one look at the photo and snorts. “Not a chance. He has old man hair.”

Too easy. “And Otabek’s is cut like an awning.”

“You take that back!” Yurio squawks. Yuuri laughs.

“Never.”

Cue the rant about Otabek’s many perfect traits. Yuuri has heard it before ad nauseum, so he feels completely justified in tuning it out and making his tea. 

Yurio has been Yuuri’s charge of sorts for six years, since Yurio was ten and Yuuri seventeen. Yuuri had just recently completed his aptitude tests and been made a full agent, while Yurio was the problematic genius of the latest, controversially young generation. He was perfect for infiltration, as he was an unfairly adorable child, but he couldn’t follow instructions to save his own life, and his disagreeable personality made it difficult for him to hold a cover story. 

They’d tried everything and everyone in the organization, but no one could get through to him. So, in a fit of pique, they tossed up their hands and threw him in with the senior agent who happened to share his name. Maybe, they reasoned, the irritation of never knowing who was being spoken to would straighten the kid out.

Two weeks later they had one Yuuri and one Yurio, and two agents who drove each other crazy but flatly refused reassignment. No one, including Yuuri and Yurio, knows quite how it happened. They’ve been working together ever since. 

“Anyway, it’s not that big of a deal,” Yurio says when he’s exhausted himself talking about his man crush. “If you think he’s hot, it shouldn't exactly be a struggle to sleep with him.”

“It’s not that easy, Yurio.”

“It is too.”

“Just wait until your first honeypot. You’ll see it’s harder than it sounds.” Yuuri’s first had been a fucking disaster (pun just slightly intended), and with Yurio’s temper his will probably be little better. “You have to pretend to be way more experienced than you actually are, or they’ll be onto you.

“Oh.” Yurio says dismissively. “Well, that won’t be a problem. I’ll have had marathon sex with Beka by then, so I’ll be an expert.”

Yuuri chokes on his tea. 

“Yurio!”

“What?”

“Y-You do remember you’re not even dating yet, right?”

“Um, yeah? I’m not stupid.” Yurio rolls his eyes. “Just because we’re not technically together yet doesn’t mean I can’t plan for the future. Waiting is all Beka’s dumb idea.”

That’s both excellent news for Otabek’s continued existence and a guarantee of future headaches as Yurio edges closer to eighteen and gets impatient. 

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Yuuri tells him. He wonders if alcohol goes well in tea like it does in coffee.

“And yet you still keep me around,” gloats Yurio.

He does. God knows why, but he does.

\---

Nightclubs are the worst _. _

This statement is probably false. There are probably plenty of things worse than nightclubs. In fact, Yuuri himself has been to places for missions that are way, way worse than nightclubs.

But nightclubs are just the  _ worst _ .

Nikiforov is known to frequent this bar on Friday nights, and all his behavior flags today indicated that this would be no exception. That doesn’t mean it’s not awful. Yuuri sits at the bar, trying not to look too unhappy to be there, desperately uncomfortable in skintight clothes. Yurio assured him earlier that these pants make his legs look fantastic, but he would have settled for ‘good’ if it meant being able to feel his lower half. He orders something at random with no intention to drink it and wonders what kind of dj plays Dave Matthews at a rave.

There’s Nikiforov, at the entrance. The bouncer waves him in with a wink, not bothering to check his ID. Nikiforov laughs and tosses off a little salute in return. Yuuri’s mouth goes dry. Nikiforov is so, so much more attractive in person. Devastatingly so.

Suddenly, Yuuri is very invested in this mission going right. 

He keeps to himself for another minute until someone slides up at the bar and starts a conversation. He nods along--the guy seems nice enough--but shoots glances in Nikiforov’s direction every couple minutes. By the looks Nikiforov tosses back, he’s noticed. Yuuri waits, and sure enough, it’s not long before he hears a cheerful voice at his elbow. 

“Well, hello there.”

He turns on his stool to face Nikiforov, propping one elbow awkwardly on the counter. He flashes a smile that he hopes communicates confidence, interest, and none of the nerves he is feeling. 

“Hello yourself.”

Nikiforov slides onto the nearest stool and leans in. Yuuri’s pinned him for a smooth talker type, so he readies himself for some sort of innuendo, or at least a line.

“Are you a beaver?” Nikiforov asks. “‘Cause damn!

Yuuri blinks for a long second, processing whether he has in fact just heard what he thinks he heard. Then, when it becomes clear that no, he was not mistaken, Nikiforov just used a beaver pun as a pickup line, he bursts into laughter at the absurdity of it. Nikiforov sits back, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Humor,” he says proudly, “is an excellent way to begin a relationship.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Victor.”

Yuuri takes it. “Takeshi.”

“Well, Takeshi, I think you may have the best sense of humor I’ve found in a long time.”

Yuuri feels himself flush slightly, and he reflexively reaches for his drink as if to hide behind it. “I’m--What gave you that impression?” He sips. It’s not a bad choice, it turns out, for being selected randomly.

“Most people don’t laugh that hard at the beaver line. I don’t know why. It’s hilarious.”

“What do they usually do?” 

“Roll their eyes,” Victor says. “One stared at me for about thirty seconds and then dumped a drink on me.”

Yuuri grins a little, leans in a fraction. “Puns  _ are _ the lowest form of humor.” 

This is so easy. Why has he never managed this before? 

“Well, I hope you’re willing to forgive me.” Victor holds out his hand again, palm up this time. “Dance with me?”

Yuuri accepts. “I’d love to.” They step out together onto the dance floor and are quickly swallowed by the roiling crowd. 

He doesn’t remember much after that.

\---

“How the fuck did you get yourself  _ roofied _ ?”

Yuuri just groans.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Katsudon!” Yurio reaches the end of the kitchen and about-faces to pace back the way he came. “You’re a fucking secret agent, how the fuck did you fall for roofies?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri moans into his folded arms. He is slumped at the kitchen table with a half empty glass of water by his head, feeling like he’s been run over by a steamroller. “I didn’t even mean to drink what I bought. It just happened.”

“Well, you’re lucky Victor Nikiforov is apparently a total fucking gentleman, ‘cause otherwise we might be dragging your body out of a fucking ditch right now.” He stops at the table and slams his hands down on the wood, waiting until Yuuri meets his eyes. “You were just saved from date rape by your target, Katsudon. Your fucking target. That’s so pathetic.”

Yuuri breathes and buries his face again. “I know.”

“You’re so, so stupid.”

“I know.”

“Don’t fucking do this again.”

“I won’t.”

“Damn right you won’t.” Yurio pushes off the table and retreats. Thirty seconds later, another glass of water thunks down by Yuuri’s head. “Hydrate yourself. If you escape roofies and then shrivel up and die anyway, I swear to god I will murder you.” He stalks away toward the door to his room. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri rasps after him.

“Fuck off!” 

His door slams. Yuuri eyes the water in front of him. He feels a bit queasy at the thought of drinking all of it, but Yurio is probably right. He sighs, sits up, and sets about following the instructions he’s been given while thinking back to the night before.

He doesn’t remember anything after the first dance with Victor, and even that is pretty hazy. Yurio explained to him this morning that he got a call at “ass-o’clock at night” from Victor on Yuuri’s phone, asking if this was a friend and if they could come pick Yuuri up, because Victor was pretty sure he’d been drugged. Yurio drove to the club, got Yuuri, dragged him back up to the apartment, and that was it until morning. (Yurio’s explanation took longer and included much more profanity.)

That’s probably it for the mission, then. Yuuri is simultaneously relieved and disappointed. On one hand, now he can probably just go in with the skills he actually has, get the information, and get out. On the other hand, by the end of what he remembers, he was really, really looking forward to climbing Victor like a tree.

He finishes his water and puts his head back down on the table with a sigh.

Damn it.

\---

Celestino doesn’t want to give up the mission.

“I got roofied in his presence,” Yuuri says incredulously, swallowing the embarrassment of the statement. “Don’t you think that ends the--seduction part of it?”

“Not if you’re still hesitating on ‘seduction,’” Celestino says. He seems tired. Yuuri gets it, but can’t bring himself to feel much sympathy. Not right now.

“H-He knows me now. Any more contact would be building a relationship. That’s not honeypot, that’s undercover.”

“Then go undercover,” Celestino snaps. He breathes loudly, sits back and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. Phichit dropped our signal in Pyeongchang.”

Yuuri sits up straighter. “Is he alright?”

“Oh, yes, he’s fine.” Celestino gives him a long-suffering look. “He went to an underground showing of a theater production of that stupid movie. Literally underground. The signal dropped because of twenty feet of solid rock.”

“That doesn’t sound much like Phichit,” says Yuuri, frowning. Phichit was obsessed, sure, but he wouldn’t just run off like that.

“No,” Celestino agrees, “it doesn’t sound like Phichit. Until you realize that, somehow, the original actor from the movie was in the show.”

A beat.

“Nevermind,” says Yuuri. “That does sound like him.”

“Exactly.” 

“What was that actor doing in Pyeongchang?”

“Your guess is good as ours.” Celestino picks up the folder that Yuuri had handed back to him. “So you’ll keep the mission?” Yuuri hesitates. “Please, Yuuri. This could really be helpful, both for the case and for you.”

…Screw it. Victor’s handsome, and funny (if a little strange), and if Yuuri can get paid government sanction to sleep with him, he’ll take the opportunity. 

“Fine,” he says, accepting the folder. “But if it ends with roofies again, I’m never taking another one of these.”

\---

It doesn’t end with roofies again. It doesn’t exactly end well, either. 

The second time Yuuri meets Victor, it isn’t even on purpose. Yurio’s stupid cat slips out the door when Yuuri comes home with groceries, and he has to chase it two whole blocks until it runs up a tree. Yurio would flip his shit if he came home and his cat was gone, so Yuuri curses the stupid thing’s ridiculous name (Puma-Tiger-Scorpion, Potya for short, good grief) and hauls himself up into the tree. 

He makes it about halfway up to where Potya sits before he sees Victor. 

He’s in casual clothes, and it’s really not fair how he looks exactly as attractive in those as in his clubbing outfit. He’s also walking a dog, a fluffy, adorable poodle. Yuuri realizes suddenly that this dog looks like a scaled-up version of his own childhood pet. 

_ Wow,  _ he thinks. _ Maybe it’s meant to be. _

Then he realizes that thought was definitely not related to the mission, and also really sappy and romantic, and wow what is he doing, and--

He panics and falls out of the tree.

His training kicks in on the way down, and he tucks and rolls in such a way that all his limbs stay in good condition, but the wind is still knocked right out of him. He doesn’t pass out, but he does find it impossible to focus on anything besides the lack of air in his lungs for several seconds. 

The first thing he feels, when he can breathe again, is a rough tongue on his face.

“Makkachin, off! Sorry, she likes to lick. Are you okay? That looked--” the voice cuts off. “Takeshi?”

Yuuri opens his eyes. It takes him several seconds to process that this is Victor, and Victor’s dog, and Takeshi is the name Victor knows him by.

“I-I’m alright,” he forces out between gasps. “Just-- breath. Knocked out of me.”

“Are you sure?” Victor leans over him, features tilted in concern. “That fall looked kind of far.”

“I’m sure.” Yuuri drags himself up to a sitting position and is immediately assaulted with sloppy kisses from the poodle. He shoves her away, laughing, and scratches behind her ears. Victor looks between them and visibly relaxes. 

“Sorry about her, she’s very…affectionate.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri says. The dog is seemingly melting under his fingers, and she drops to the ground to offer her belly for petting. He obliges. “I actually used to have a dog a lot like her.” 

Victor brightens. “Really? And we just happened to meet again today-- It’s like fate!”

Yuuri ducks his head, trying not to think about his own very similar thoughts earlier. “S-Sort of,” he says. 

“What were you doing up there anyway?” Victor asks. He helps Yuuri to his feet. 

“Chasing my roommate’s cat,” Yuuri explains. “It got out.” He plants his hands on his hips and looks up into the tree, seeking out the little tan patch that is Potya to give it the stink eye. The glare is weakened somewhat by growing worry as he realizes that Yurio will probably get back soon, and that he can’t actually see the cat. “I have to get him down, or my roommate will freak.”

“Are you sure you want to climb the tree again? You’ve already had a fall.”

“Well, I can’t exactly leave the cat up there.” Yuuri resigns himself to his fate and steps forward to grasp a branch.

_ Meow _ .

“Hey,” says Victor, voice slightly pitched, “does your roommate’s cat like dogs?”

Potya does not like dogs. Potya chases dogs, and the dogs run away. Yuuri turns slowly, dread trickling into his stomach, prepared for the worst. 

Potya and Makkachin are locked in a standoff. Potya is puffed from head to tail, back arched, while Makkachin stares back with wide, guileless eyes. Her head tilts to the side, curious. Potya hisses. 

Yuuri waits for the yowling and the pain. It doesn’t come. Instead, Makkachin flattens down on her stomach. Potya deflates, flicks his tail across Makkachin’s nose, and struts away. 

“What,” he says, dumbfounded.

“I’m not sure,” says Victor, “but I think you can grab the cat now.”

Still cautious, Yuuri picks his way to Potya and lifts him gingerly by the belly. There is no reaction. Potya looks just as snooty and ridiculous as he always does, but he doesn’t try to separate Yuuri’s nose from his face.

“What,” Yuuri repeats.

“Definitely fate,” declares Victor. Yuuri, despite himself, is inclined to agree.

They walk together back to the apartment, Yuuri with Potya tucked under one arm, Victor with Makkachin on her leash. The day, which he hadn’t had much chance to appreciate before in his mad scramble for the cat, is absolutely gorgeous, as is the company. 

“So, about everything at the club,” Victor begins eventually. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes, I’m fine.”

“You got home okay?” Makkachin is sniffing at something by the side of the road. Victor tugs her gently back onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah.” Yuuri presses his lips together and looks to the side. “Thank you, by the way. F-For calling him. That was-- Thank you.”

“Of course,” says Victor. “That’s not really something you should have to thank me for, Takeshi.”

Right. Takeshi. Victor doesn’t even know his real name. 

Remembering that puts a damper on things.

“How did you get into my contacts?” Yuuri blurts. He colors immediately when he realizes how rude it sounded, but he can’t take the words back. “I-I just mean, my phone is password protected? So you, um, to call Yurio…”

“You must not remember it, but you gave me the code when I told you I was going to get you home.” Victor’s brow furrows. “Did I not explain this in the note?”

Yuuri looks at him blankly. “What note?”

Victor seems to search his face for something, then relaxes, breathing as though a weight has been lifted. He is smiling, suddenly. “I left a note explaining some of what happened. I guess you must have lost it on the way home. That’s why you haven't-- I thought-- Hm.” He smiles a little wider. “Nevermind,” he sings. “Leave it lost!”

That’s worthy of a raised eyebrow. After some thought Yuuri lets it slide, though part of him is still terribly curious. It’s probably nothing nefarious, and if he’s lost the note, he’s lost it. It’s been days since the club; there’s no finding it now.

They reach his apartment building, and Yuuri stops outside the door. “This is it,” he says, and he is hit by a sudden unexpected wave of disappointment. Victor’s face reflects the same reluctance to leave, and they stand there, shifting from foot to foot, until the silence starts to get awkward.

“I-I. Um.” Yuuri looks at his feet. “I have to go.”

“Right,” says Victor. He clears his throat. “Right. Um. Can I have your number?”

Yuuri blinks. “Come again?”

“Can I have your number?” Victor repeats obligingly. “So I can text you. If that’s alright.”

“Right,” says Yuuri. “That’s what I thought you said.” He thinks about it, mentally shrugs, and says, “O-Okay. Sure.”

When they part ways, Yuuri has a new contact in his phone titled ‘Victor Nikiforov’ with three emojis after it: the Russian flag, a dog, and a figure skate. Victor walks off with a contact titled Takeshi Nishigori, with no other symbols. Yuuri surprises himself with how badly he wants to be able to put his real name in those blanks, but shoves the problem away in favor of bolting for the elevator and desperately hoping that Yurio isn’t home yet to notice Potya missing.

He doesn’t realize until an hour later that he just brought a target to his actual place of residence. 

\---

Yuuri’s sifting through pants pockets before loading the week’s laundry into the machine (he lost a twenty to the wash once and is paranoid now) when the pants from the club come back up. He holds them up and grimaces with distaste. He hopes he never has to wear these again.

He reaches into the front pockets and retrieves the cash he’d brought with him to the club. Then, though he’s certain there’s nothing in them, he checks the back pockets, and finds a piece of paper that he knows wasn’t there when he left the apartment for the club. He unfolds it.

_ Takeshi,  _ the paper reads, _ I don’t know how much you remember about last night, but you were definitely drugged. I got you to unlock your phone and called your roommate to come pick you up. He’s going to be here soon, so I figured I’d send this back with you. I hope you get to your pockets before he does. He seemed pretty grumpy. _

_ If you remember me and you’re interested, call me? _

_ -Victor <3<3<3  _

And then his number is scrawled across the bottom, along with a quick,  _ If you don’t want to, it’s totally fine!  _

Yuuri tucks the note into the pocket of the pants he is wearing, loads the laundry, and starts the machine. Then he pulls out his phone and pulls up Victor’s contact from yesterday. Victor had taken a selfie for the contact photo, grinning and holding up a v with his fingers. 

He wonders if today is too soon to text. 

“Yurio,” he calls when he gets back to the apartment, “how long are you supposed to wait before texting someone?”

“How the hell would I know?” Yurio’s voice is muffled from his bedroom. “Not like I’ve ever dated.”

“You’re a teenager, teenagers are supposed to know these things.”

“Well, I don’t. Beka is too smart for that shit.” He pokes his head out around his bedroom door. “Did you wash my tiger shirt?”

Yuuri hands him the basket. “Sort it and you’ll find out.”

Quietly cursing, Yurio takes the basket and retreats back into his cave. Yuuri shuffles to his own room and flops down on the bed. Pulling out his phone again, he stares at Victor’s contact. Russian, owns a dog, teaches figure skating. Drop dead gorgeous. Takes adorable selfies. Is, in Yurio’s words, a ‘total fucking gentleman.’

How the hell did Yuuri get his number? Twice?

He slings an arm over his eyes and groans. Stupid mission. Stupid Celestino. Stupid Victor, being cute and likable and having a floppy poodle.

He’ll text tomorrow. 

\---

He doesn’t text tomorrow.

At nine o’clock at night, he gets a call from Celestino. He dries his hands--he’s in the middle of doing dishes-- and picks up with a sudden sense of foreboding.

“It’s been just over a week since the club,” Celestino begins without preamble, “so I think it would be good to make your next move soon. We know where Nikiforov is going to be tomorrow evening, so you need to be there. Come up with a good reason you’re there, bring Yurio if you need to. Just be sure that it seems like a complete coincidence.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, searching for a way to explain that he's already done ‘complete coincidence’ by actual coincidence, and that another coincidence might seem weird, and that he has Victor’s phone number now, and can Celestino help him figure out how soon is desperate and  _ Victor knows where he lives, _ \--but he can’t. He just doesn’t know where to begin, and it seems weirdly personal, and by the time he has any idea how to explain Celestino is already asking for confirmation. 

“A-Alright,” he stammers. “I-I’ll be there.”

“Good,” says Celestino, “I’m counting on you.” And he ends the call.

Yuuri takes the phone from his ear and stares into the sink as the bubbles deflate.

\---

“Did it hurt?”

Yuuri turns around and greets Victor with a (hopefully surprised-looking) smile. “When I fell from heaven?”

“No,” Victor says. “When you fell from that tree.”

That earns a laugh. Victor takes a bow.  

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all night.”

They’re standing at the back of the bowling area of a local alley, on the raised, carpeted part where they keep the racks of bowling balls. Victor caught Yuuri in the middle of browsing for one, so he’s still holding a pea-green ten-pounder under one arm. The crash of pins echoes throughout alley.

Still laughing a little, Yuuri asks, “What are you doing here?” This is a meaningless question, as he already knows, but it needs to be asked for appearances’ sake.

“League practice night.” Victor gestures at his shirt, which matches a group several lanes down. The alley is under black light, so the pale stripes on it are glowing. “We’re awful, but it’s fun.”

“I didn’t take you for a bowling person.”

“Neither did I. Chris convinced me to join.” He points out a blond man, currently leering at the person up to bowl. “He’s here for the butts.”

“And you’re here for?” Yuuri asks, holding back a smile. 

“The cool lights, obviously.” Victor bumps their shoulders together. “And now maybe the company. You here with anyone?”

Yuuri gestures to the nearest lane. “Yurio’s boyfriend is in town, and it’s date night.” 

Yurio is indeed at the lane, but it’s not Otabek he’s with. (Not, of course, that Otabek is technically his boyfriend.) Phichit got in from Pyeongchang yesterday, and since he looks young enough to be an appropriate age for Yurio, he seemed the obvious choice to play the part. Yurio wasn’t happy, but even he couldn’t argue with the fact that if Yuuri were clearly a third wheel it would be much easier for him to leave with Victor.

“You tag along on date night?” Victor asks, tilting his head to the side. Yuuri flushes, not entirely for show. 

“N-Not usually. It’s just, um. There was a coupon, so.”

“Well, if you want you can come watch us fail at bowling,” Victor offers with a lopsided, hopeful smile. “Georgi still can’t get the ball down the lane without bumpers. It’s hilarious, I promise.”

With some deliberate hemming, hawing, and glances back at his group, Yuuri accepts, clunking his ball back onto the rack. He follows Victor over to the league lane, where he finds himself quickly overwhelmed by Victor’s friends. They are all, without exception, shockingly strong personalities. He had an idea from Victor’s description what to expect from Chris, but Mila seems about ready to eat him, and Georgi is so dramatic Yuuri is almost certain he’s been on reality tv at least once. 

At least Victor was telling the truth about them sucking at bowling. It takes some of the edge off when a person who scares you only downs three pins on a good roll. 

“Follow through on the swing,” he advises Mila, whose turn is next. She looks at him inquiringly, and he shrinks a little, reddening. “Th-Think of a straight line from behind you to in front. I-It should keep the line a little better.”

“Huh,” she says thoughtfully. “Alright.” 

She bowls. Her shot doesn’t go quite down the middle, but it hits more pins than her last three. She cheers and punches the air. Her team gives her high fives on her way back.

“Are you good at bowling?” Victor asks in Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri jumps and whips to face him.

“K-Kind of,” he squeaks, determinedly ignoring the tingle that just skittered down his spine. He’s pretty good at bowling, but not because he does it often. He’s actually applying concepts he was given during training when they taught him how to roll a grenade.

“We’re almost finished with this game, we’ll add you in on the next one. That’s okay right?” Victor asks the group, and receives a positive response. “Awesome!”

So Yuuri ends up playing in the next round and thoroughly trouncing the entire league. He looks at the scoreboard in disbelief when they are done; he has almost double the next highest score. His total isn’t even that good. Phichit gets higher than that on a bad day.

“Takeshi,” says Mila, gazing in awe at the board, “please save us. With you we might not come in last every time.”

Personally Yuuri thinks his moderate score still might not make up for their abysmal ones, but he can’t speak for the other teams, so he says nothing. Chris gives him a measuring look.

“Have you ever played for a league?”

“N-No?”

“Are you free at this time every other week?”

“Um.” It’s hard to say. Sometimes Yuuri is on paperwork and local law for months at a time, while other times he’s in three different countries in the space of a week. “My job is pretty unpredictable.”

“Come on, Chris” wheedles Mila. “Even if he’s here at one competition of ten, that’s one competition of ten where we don’t lose quite as miserably.”

“Georgi?”

“I say we take him.”

“Victor?”

“Absolutely.” Victor leans one elbow on the table and smirks. “I’d love to have him.” It is undeniably an innuendo. Yuuri feels himself turn bright red, and roughly half his brain goes offline. 

“Well,” says Chris, “if none are opposed, I would like to offer Takeshi a place in the league.” He winks, and somehow manages to make the simple action filthy. “What do you say?”

“I-I-I-” Yuuri flaps his mouth open and shut a few times, panics, and squeaks, “O-Okay!” before thinking it through. He realizes several seconds later exactly what he’s agreed to.

He’s now a member of a bowling league.

Yurio is going to kill him.

\---

“So let me get this straight,” says Yurio. “You go in there to seduce one guy--one stupid, civilian guy--and instead of going home with him, or even just making out for a while, you  _ join his bowling league _ .”

Phichit is on the couch in fits. “Sorry, Yuuri,” he gasps between giggles, “but it’s really funny.”

Yuuri can’t blame him for laughing. If it were anyone else, he would probably laugh too. It’s just. He’s already embarrassed enough, you know?

“You are fucking unbelievable, Katsudon,” sneers Yurio. He tosses himself down on the couch next to Phichit. “You had one job!”

“Well, it’s a job that I suck at,” Yuuri complains. “I don’t know why Celestino wants me to do this so badly. I could have just broken into his house and gotten the information a week ago.”

“Maybe he just really wants you to get laid,” snickers Phichit. He’s still in stitches. “Ciao Ciao, the world’s least efficient wingman.”

“Oi,” says Yurio, poking Phichit in the side, “you can stop laughing now. It’s getting annoying.”

“But it’s still funny!”

“How about we talk about your detour in Pyeongchang?” Phichit stops laughing. Yurio smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

“How do I do this?” Yuuri moans. “It’s not even really a honeypot anymore. He knows me, his friends know me, I have all their phone numbers.”

“Maybe he’ll just let you into his house sometime and you can snoop around,” Phichit says with a shrug. “Same end result.”

“God, this is going to be so messy when it’s done.” Yuuri squashes between them on the couch, ignoring Yurio’s indignant shriek. “I can’t just cut off contact, Victor knows where I live.”

“Wait, what?” Yurio’s head snaps around to him. 

Oh. Right.

“What the fuck, Katsuki?”

“Um.”

“No, no ‘um.’ Get your words together right now and tell me how the ever loving fuck your target knows where  _ we- _ ” he emphasizes the  _ we _ “-live.”

“I-I ran into him yesterday,” Yuuri squeaks. He feels himself beginning to sweat. “P-Potya got out, I chased him, Victor happened to be there. It was all an accident. But I--I walked back to the apartment and now he knows the building.”

All is quiet. Phichit sums it up neatly:

“Shit.”

\---

Yurio won’t talk to him. Yuuri has been trying periodically over the course of the day to speak to him through his bedroom door, but Yurio has given no sign of life since the night before when he exploded, ranted for a full half hour, and locked himself inside. Yuuri taps on the door again, and again receives no response. With a sigh, he returns to the kitchen for a new cup of tea.

God, he feels awful. Last night during his rant, Yurio was pissed, but he also seemed scared. Yuuri hasn’t heard that kind of panic in his voice since he was twelve and in tears over where he would go now that his grandfather was dead. That it’s Yuuri’s fault it’s back-- he feels like a terrible person. He  _ is  _ a terrible person.

Damn it all.

He’s due for a briefing at the office at one today. A glance at the microwave clock says that it’s ten right now. He has three hours before he has to explain to Celestino how he’s managed to flub the mission again, and to explain that he’s quite possibly managed to compromise both himself and Yurio, and kept the event a secret from his superiors for a full day. That’ll be a fun conversation. 

Around noon, a text comes in from Victor. 

_ Hey!! This might be kind of soon, but I have an extra ticket for a show tomorrow. Interested? <3<3 _

He doesn’t reply. He’s not sure what he can say.

At one, he is in Celestino’s office explaining the entire thing. It takes a while, as he stutters his way through a lot of it and hesitates often, but he gets it out. When he’s finished, they sit in silence for a long time, Celestino with his hands folded carefully beneath his chin.

After nearly five minutes, Celestino finally breaks the silence.

“I must say, none of this is what I expected when I gave you this assignment.” He unfolds his hands and places them flat on the desk, palms down. “Oh, Yuuri,” he sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

Yuuri sits on his hands and looks away. He says nothing.

“Well,” says Celestino, sitting back, “as I see it, we have some options. I could cut the two of you loose--don't give me that look. I’m not actually going to do it. You’re both good agents, on the whole, and it’s expensive to train new ones. I could settle for never getting whatever information Nikiforov has on Yakov, send you both off to some other department in a new region, and wipe you from records around here. Or we could bring Nikiforov in, have him sign some important papers, and pretend none of this ever happened.” He gives Yuuri a level look. “I think I know which option the two of you would prefer.

Yuuri swallows and remains silent.

“And I’ll give you that option. Provided you complete the original mission goal.”

Yuuri’s gaze snaps up. “ _ What _ ?”

“If you complete the mission as a honeypot and find the information on Yakov--”

“But why?” Yuuri doesn’t stand up, but it’s a near thing. “W-Why are you so set on me sleeping with Nikiforov? You almost seem more concerned with that than the information!”

“What’s the problem? You’re attracted to him, right?”

Yes, to a truly ridiculous extreme, but. “That’s beside the point!”

Celestino’s face is inscrutable. Yuuri’s mind races. 

None of any of what has happened over the last week and a half makes any sense from the perspective of a mission organizer. One of the most important things in this business--in any business--is assigning tasks based on the skills an agent possesses. This mission has, put simply, been a catastrophic failure on Celestino’s part when measured by that rubric. Yuuri is a strong agent, but this mission has targeted his weakest point. It makes no sense.

Unless… 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri realizes. “Phichit was right. You’re trying to get me laid.”

“I’m trying to get valuable information that could break a case on a multinational smuggling ring,” corrects Celestino. “...But yes. I’m also trying to get you laid.”

“Wha--” Yuuri has no idea what to do with this information. “Why--You--”

“Yuuri, I take the wellbeing of my employees very seriously.”

“A-And you show it by playing  _ matchmaker _ ?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

“Oh my god.” This time he does stand up. He paces from one wall to the other, gesticulating wildly. “All this was just to get me to s-sleep with someone?”

“And to get you to stop stuttering when you talk about sex,” Celestino says, sounding resigned. “But obviously neither of those things have worked out.”

“I-I can’t believe this.” Yuuri runs both hands through his hair. “Did you-- Does Nikiforov even have anything important?”

“Of course he does,” says Celestino, indignant. “Who do you take me for? He has reasonably helpful information. It’s just less important for us to get that for you to  _ get that _ , if you take my meaning.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri has run out of words. He stops pacing and just stands there, head in his hands. “Oh my  _ god. _ ”

There is quiet.

“...So will you do it?”

Yuuri screams, turns, and walks out.

He sits in his car, hands and forehead all resting on the steering wheel, regretting his life choices. What has he done to deserve this? He’s worked all his life to keep people safer, and to save some lives here and there. He’s never done anything to deserve this bone-deep embarrassment. He’s close to crying, humiliated tears blurring his vision.

His phone chimes. He checks it and finds a new text from Victor.

_ Walked by this and thought of you ;) _

Attached is a picture of a cat in a tree. Yuuri laughs despite himself and begins to gradually bring his breathing back under control.

_ Cute _ he texts back once he's scrubbed the tears from his eyes.

And then, with a mental cry of ‘fuck it,’ he sends another message.

_ Tomorrow sounds great. Where and when? _

\---

Yurio is still in his room when Yuuri gets home, but there is evidence in the kitchen that he at least ate lunch. Yuuri drops his bag of groceries on the counter, clears away the dirty dishes, and sets to work.

Some time later, he knocks on Yurio’s door. “Hey, Yurio, you in there?”

There is no response.

“I talked to Celestino. We aren’t getting transferred. We can stay here, it’s all fine.”

Nothing. He pulls out the big guns.

“I made you apology pirozhki. The katsudon kind.”

He waits a full minute until the door creaks open to reveal one squinting eye. 

“You better not be making shit up.”

Yuuri holds up the plate for inspection. Yurio looks at the pirozhki, looks at him, looks back at the pirozhki, and finally opens the door. He seizes the plate and gestures for Yuuri to follow him inside, where he directs him to sit on the floor while he himself takes a seat on the bed. Yuuri obeys. Yurio samples a pirozhki, examines it, swallows.

“Alright. Talk.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri says. “I made a stupid decision that affected you as much as me, and I will never do anything like it again.”

“You said we don’t have to move?”

“We don’t have to move.”

“What were the conditions?”

“I finish the mission as a honeypot, then take Victor in to headquarters to sign nondisclosure.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Yuuri confirms.

“Apologize again.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Yurio. I was an idiot.”

They sit in silence as Yurio finishes a pirozhki. 

“Why the fuck do you have to finish it as a honeypot?”

“Apparently this mission is really a roundabout way for Celestino to get me laid.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

“I know.”

Quiet.

“You’re gonna do it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty fucking weird too.”

Yuuri shrugs. “I k-kind of want to, actually. I like Victor.”

Yurio scowls and points at him with a pirozhki. “Liking is not a factor here.”

“Why not? You want to sleep with Otabek because you like him.”

“Don’t you fucking compare Beka with a mission, god Katsudon, do you want me to smash this plate over your head?”

Yuuri holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “S-Sorry, sorry! I just. I do, though. I like him. A lot.”

Giving him a once over, Yurio makes a face. “You want him in a boyfriend way.”

“Wh-- I-”

“Oh, shut up. You want him in a boyfriend way and you’re going to turn this into an opportunity to  _ get _ him in a boyfriend way.” He tears off a vicious bit of pirozhki. “I don’t approve of your methods.”

“W-Well--”

“I approve of the outcome, though. Even though he's fugly. Go get him.”

“Yurio--”

Yurio makes a dismissive noise. “I’m done talking to you now. Get out.”

And Yuuri finds himself outside of Yurio’s room, the door shut behind him, feeling as winded as though he’s fallen out of another tree.

Well then.

He supposes he has a date tomorrow.

\---

The show turns out to be a ballet production. Victor apparently remembered some throwaway comment Yuuri made about taking ballet when he was small and figured he could appreciate it. Yuuri is impressed that he remembered, but also ruefully exasperated with himself to have revealed so much true information without even realizing. He really is awful at undercover work.

It’s an excellent show, with a talented cast. It’s almost enough to make Yuuri wish he’d stuck with dance instead of going spy. He and Victor share an armrest for the first act and end up holding hands for the second. Overall, it’s a great night. 

Victor is still calling him Takeshi. 

Yuuri accepts an invitation back to Victor’s apartment for a late dinner and is tense the entire way there. As they pull into the building parking lot, he feels his stomach begin to sink.

He can’t do it. Not while Victor still doesn’t even know his name.

He swallows. 

If this goes wrong, Yurio is going to full out murder him.

They make their way up to the apartment. It’s a cozy little place. Makkachin greets them enthusiastically with sloppy kisses, and Yuuri laughs as he urges her down. It takes some of the tension out of him. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Victor calls, vanishing into the kitchen. 

“Just water, please.” Yuuri scratches Makkachin behind the ears. He imagines encouragement in her big, dark eyes and steels himself for the conversation to come.

Victor returns with two glasses of water. Yuuri stands.

“Victor, there’s something I need to tell you. You need to promise not to say anything until the end, though.”

Victor visibly wilts. “If this is a rejection, just tell me now.”

“N-No!” Yuuri waves his hands. “No, it’s not, it’s kind of the opposite, though it might lead to one? From you? I-I don't, I’ve never told anyone this before, it’s k-kind of new territory? I mean I wouldn’t--”

“Takeshi--”

“My name’s not Takeshi.”

Victor blinks. “It’s not?”

“No,” says Yuuri. He swallows hard. “It’s not.”

“...Huh,” says Victor. He sets his water down carefully on a nearby table. “I think you better go on.”

“M-My real name is Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuuri says. “I’m a government agent. I had a mission assignment, t-to get information from you. That’s why we met, a-at the bar.” 

“This is either a bad action movie or the most out of left field role play attempt I have ever been involved in.”

Yuuri feels the blood rushing to his face. “N-Neither! I’m really an agent! Here.” He pats around in his pockets, retrieves his wallet, and opens the hidden back flap. He shows Victor his badge and waits.

“Wow,” says Victor. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say.

“L-Like I said. I met you because of an assignment.”

“An assignment?”

“Honeypot.” Yuuri puts his badge away.

“What does that mean?”

“S-Seduction mission,” he mumbles, and drinks his water as an excuse to not say any more. He wishes he’d asked for something alcoholic.

Victor’s face is all scrunched up. It’s not an expression Yuuri has seen before. “So you were supposed to seduce me for information?”

“To get into your house. I’m still supposed to, technically.”

“What information do they even think I have?”

Yuuri hesitates a moment, then sighs. In for a penny, in for a pound. “They’re looking for contact details for a man called Yakov.”

Victor’s eyebrows shoot up, and he bursts out laughing. Yuuri stares at him, baffled. “Yakov! Yeah, I know him. He went off the grid because he didn’t trust capitalism. I can tell you exactly where he is.” He leans in, eyes sparkling. “You could have just asked! I’d love to help drag that old man back to civilization.”

“R-Really?” All this mess has been for nothing?

Victor nods. “Really.” 

Well, that’s part of the problem sorted. Yuuri sends up a silent thanks that even if the rest of the night is a bust, he can still probably spin it to keep himself and Yurio in town. 

“So there’s one thing I don’t get,” Victor says. Yuuri prompts him to go on. “You’ve been trying to seduce me this whole time?”

“S-Sort of.” Yuuri avoids his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. “At the club, and the bowling alley. The tree was an accident, I didn’t know you’d be there.”

“Did you get roofied on purpose?”

“No. That was awful.”

“And did you intend to join the bowling league?”

“That just sort of…happened.”

“Nothing about yourself was actually a lie except your name and your reasons for being there.”

“I-I suppose?”

“Then no offense, Take--” He stops himself. “Yuuri, but you’re a pretty awful secret agent.”

“I’m a great agent!” Yuuri protests. “I’m just. I’m r-really bad at honeypots and undercover. I get anxious and just go along with whatever’s happening.”

Victor smiles a little. “Yeah, I got that impression.” 

“A-And anyway, I really do like you.” Yuuri looks down and wrings his fingers. “That definitely wasn’t an act or anything. You’re-- I really like you, and your dog, and, and, just, being with you is easy. It’s never been easy before. A-And I’m sorry, for lying to you, a-and for meeting under false pretenses, and I g-get it if you don’t want to do this anymore, a-and--”

Victor grabs him by the upper arms and kisses him. 

Yuuri, who has worked himself near to tears, goes stiff for a moment before melting against him, curling into his body like he’s meant to be there. Victor’s hands slide down his arms to lock loosely around his waist, and Yuuri’s hands find their way to the soft hair at the nape of Victor’s neck. 

The kiss ends. They break apart. Victor presses their foreheads together.

“I really like you, Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri just looks at him, dazed. “I don’t like that you lied, but I can forgive government secrets, especially since you’re probably breaking the rules to tell me this. You’re ridiculous, and adorable, and Makkachin loves you, and I think I would like to keep you for the foreseeable future. Even if you are a secret agent.”

“Oh.” Yuuri says.

Victor kisses him again. Yuuri winds his hands further into his hair.

“Okay,” says Victor when they separate, “it seems unlikely to matter now, but I have an entire spiel prepared about how this is technically our third or fourth date. I could give you that speech, or we could skip to the fun part.” 

Yuuri laughs breathlessly. “I-I think I’ll skip to the fun part.”

“Pity,” Victor says with a grin. “It was a pretty gre--” 

Yuuri yanks him down. There is no more talking for a while.

\---

Two days later, Yuuri walks into Celestino’s office with a full printout on Yakov Feltsman, with information ranging from his appearance and location to his pet peeves, taste in music, and least favorite birthday gifts. He places the file in front of Celestino, takes a seat, and waits.

“This is… thorough.”

Yuuri hums. “Victor had a lot of information. He was very willing to give it up. All I had to do was ask.”

“You didn't--” Celestino catches himself. He breathes deeply. “Sorry. Yuuri, it has come to my attention that I may have been remiss in my attempts to help your personal life.”

“Yurio yelled at you about how weird it was.”

“At length.”

Yuuri shrugs. “It’s actually turned out well for me. You wouldn’t believe the hoops some people have to jump through to let their significant others in on what their job is.”

It’s almost funny how fast Celestino’s eyebrows jump. “You’re  _ seeing _ him?”

“And he’s getting the paperwork right now for official documentation.”

“Yuuri, that’s not--”

“You’ve already given permission for him to know where we live, and the secret’s already out what we do. He’s assisted in an investigation. Even official protocol supports full disclosure in this case, and once full disclosure is given, fraternization is no longer an issue. So thank you, this time.” 

He rises to leave. 

“But Celestino?” He sets his jaw and goes on before he can lose his nerve. “N-No more honeypots. You put me where you need my actual skills or the higher ups learn about all of this mess. Have a nice day.” 

And then he walks out.

The moment the door is closed, Yuuri lets out an enormous breath and slumps against a wall. Yurio looks up from his phone.

“You do it?” 

“Somehow,” Yuuri breathes. “I think that was the most stressful confrontation of my life.”

“Well, you’ve got all the cards, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Bastard.”

“He’s not all that bad, Yurio. Just a little much sometimes.” Yuuri pushes off the wall and starts off down the hallway.

“Sure,” Yurio snorts, joining him. “And Nugget Child is just a little enthusiastic.”

“Just because you’re an edgy emo kid doesn’t mean everyone has to be. And anyway, he’s older than you.”

“You take that back!”

“But it’s true!”

They make their way to the front office, where the receptionist directs them to a side room. There they find Victor, looking lost among stacks of paperwork.

“Yuuri,” he cries plaintively, “save me.”

“I can’t sign for you,” Yuuri says. “It would void the agreement.”

Victor lets out a desperate moan and flops down on the stack in front of him. “I take it all back. I’ll pretend to know nothing. Just don’t make me do this.”

“Suck it up,” Yurio says, rolling his eyes. “It's not that bad. All you have to do is initial on every other page.  It doesn’t even take that long.” When he sees both of them staring at him, his shoulders go up. “What?”

“I can’t believe you don’t mind paperwork,” Yuuri says in disbelief. “How did I never know this?”

“What? It's not like I’m bad at writing my name. That would just be sad.”

Victor shakes his head. “I’ve known you for a day, and that’s enough for this to be surprising.”

“You’re obviously a shitty judge of character, then,” Yurio sniffs and goes back to his phone.

“Well,” says Yuuri, “you heard him.” He turns to Victor, holding back laughter. “Get going.” 

Victor groans, but obeys.

\---

Hours later, when they are curled up together on Victor’s couch, Yuuri asks, “You really don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That I’m, you know. A spy.”

“As long as you’re one of the good guys,” Victor teases. Yuuri pokes him.

“I’m serious! The job is really unpredictable. I might be out of town for weeks at a time without being able to contact you.”

“Then I’ll wait for you to come home. Can’t say I’ll always be patient about it, but I’ll always wait.” Victor tucks his nose into Yuuri’s neck and holds him tighter. “I can already tell you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

Yuuri swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. “I-I’ll try to come home fast, then.”

“Good.” Victor shifts. 

They breathe together, soft and quiet. 

“Are you sure I can’t brag that my boyfriend is a spy?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “Absolutely sure.”

“But they’d be so jealous! And then we wouldn’t have to make up some stupid story about why I call you Yuuri instead of Takeshi. It’s a good thing I never gave them your fake last name.”

“Are you sure I should even stay in the league?” It seems like a security risk.

“Yuuri! They’ll be heartbroken if you don’t!”

“I don’t know…”

“Please?” Victor makes big eyes at him, and Yuuri caves like the weak man he is. 

“Fine.”

Victor cheers. “We’re gonna win!”

“My game is not enough to get you guys a win.”

“Well, we’ll be closer to winning.” Victor tugs him in close, and Yuuri squeaks. Victor’s voice drops lower. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already won, though, if I’ve managed to keep you.”

“V-Victor,” Yuuri protests, cheeks red. “That’s really cheesy.”

“It's not that cheesy! Do you want to hear actual cheesy?”

“Oh no.”

“Are you a cornfield? ‘Cause I’m stalking you.”

“Oh my god.”

“Is that a mirror in your pocket? ‘Cause I see myself in your pants.”

Yuuri kisses him to shut him up. Victor kisses back and slides a hand down under the waistband of Yuuri’s jeans. 

They skip to the fun part.

 

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it please drop a kudos, I crave validation.


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